


A Prickly Pear (or Jun and her Harem): Part 1

by rinrinalin



Series: A Prickly Pear (or Jun and her Harem) [1]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, BDSM, F/F, F/M, Genderbending, Harems, M/M, Multi, Power Imbalance, girl!Aiba - Freeform, girl!Jun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinrinalin/pseuds/rinrinalin
Summary: Matsumoto Jun has sent her faithful concubine to obtain a new member for her growing harem in the kingdom of Ara’ashi’i.
Relationships: Arashi Ensemble/Matsumoto Jun
Series: A Prickly Pear (or Jun and her Harem) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101647
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	A Prickly Pear (or Jun and her Harem): Part 1

Nino cast his eyes down the line of two dozen concubines, affecting an air of nonchalance and doing his very best to ignore the glare of the sun. "Tell me, sir, how were they trained?"   
  
"It depends on the slave, sir," the flesh merchant responded. "What would sir like?"

“A concubine. Not a slave.” It was irritating to have to specify,  _ again, _ but he really should do better to remember that he was beyond the A’ra’ashi’i border and things were done differently here. "Forgive me, sir. I'm shopping for my mistress, not myself. Gender is not important, but some understanding of A’ra’ashi’i culture would be helpful, as well as training in the Tenants." He felt sweat beading at the back of his neck. The men and women before him gave no indication that they felt the beating of the sun.    


The flesh merchant nodded and clapped his hands. "Number Thirty-six! Forward!"   
  
Nino walked down the line to inspect the man before him. "Obedient. That's important."   


"Very obedient, sir," the flesh merchant agreed. "Strong, too, with great stamina. Number Thirty-six, how many of the sacred positions have you learned?"   
  
"Twenty-five, Master," the handsome slave answered, eyes downcast. His voice was soft and rich, with a pleasant timbre. His mistress would like that.   


"I ask again," Nino turned his attention to the merchant, little more than a slaver. "How was he trained?"   
  
"He has been raised in the slave temple since birth, sir," the other man answered. "When he was five, he began his education in letters and numbers. When he began to display academic promise, at the age of ten, he was sent to the Shrine at West Edge to continue his studies and to prepare for his erotic duties. When he reached puberty he was apprenticed to Ryoko-san, primary concubine to Lord Tsuyoshi of Unichi. She schooled him in the ways to pleasure both male and female. You may have heard of her - she is legendary."   
  
Nino had indeed heard of her. "No, I'm afraid I never have. What use is an educated concubine?" Nino chose not to ask what such a refined specimen was doing at a sketchy slave market in little more than a loincloth.    


"There are many different ways to ensure the pleasure of one's master or mistress, sir," the flesh merchant said, his oily voice chiding. "There is more to being a quality pleasure slave than simply being able to perform."   


“Concubine.”

Thirty-six’s eyes momentarily flickered to Nino’s at the correction and when they caught, held.

"My mistress seeks obedience in all things. She doesn't need or want a slave who thinks."   


"I assure you, sir, Number Thirty-six is very obedient.”

Nino eyed the man again. He was taller than Nino and clearly better muscled. "How is his tolerance for pain?"   
  
"He is susceptible to pain, but he is very good at suppressing his reactions to it. If your mistress wants a slave who will scream, or a slave who will maintain his composure, Number Thirty-six is certainly ideal."   
  
"My mistress prefers a slave who enjoys the lick of the lash." Nino shrugged, meeting the concubine’s eyes again for half a beat. "Show me another. Be quick about it. It's hot as hells here."   
  
The merchant nodded. "Number Thirty-six, step back. Number-!"   
  
"Master, I enjoy the lash."   
  
Nino stopped mid-step, turning to look back at Thirty-six. He kept his gaze locked with the man's, "I thought you said he was obedient?"   
  
"He was!" The flesh merchant removed what Nino had thought was a ceremonial switch from the holster at his belt. "Be silent, Thirty-six!" He raised the switch and brought it down across the man's bare shoulders. 

_ Crack. _

The slave's eyes fluttered and his muscles flexed, but he didn't cry out. When he opened them again, dark and dilated with arousal, he fixed them on Nino’s.   
  
"Mmmm." He tipped his head thoughtfully. "A concubine who thinks."   
  
"I will see to it that Thirty-six is punished severely for his disobedience, sir," the merchant said with a deep bow. "Please, feel free to browse the other slaves on offer. "   
  
"I will. I must confess, my interest is piqued in this one... don't take him anywhere." Nino didn’t correct the merchant again.   
  
"As you wish, sir. You!" The merchant turned fiery eyes on the disobedient man. "Go kneel!" He pointed to a corner of the stone courtyard. "And do not move or you will feel far worse than a few quick stripes from the switch!"   
  
Nino ignored Thirty-six for the next hour, pursuing the rest of the slaves and concubines for purchase. He selected four others as potential purchases: two women and two men. "I'd like to know more about these ones. Which have been trained to pain?"   


"Both men and the smaller of the two women, sir."   


"I presume they've been trained to pleasure both genders?"   
  
"Yes. All of our slaves are bilaterally trained.   
  
"Do they have names?"   


"As with all slaves, they are referred to by their numbers. They do have names that were given them at birth, but they're rarely used. Many owners prefer to name their slaves to suit their own tastes."   


"Souka. Tell me of their interests."

“Interests, sir…?” The flesh merchant seemed confused by the question.

“Their personalities, then,” Nino shifted his weight. It was growing harder to hide his distaste for the lower markets of this city. He would be glad to see home again in two days' time. 

"This one is Number Forty," the slaver said, gesturing to the nearest man, a tall, willowy young man with a strong nose and serious eyes. "He's energetic and quite curious. He’s mastered twelve of the sacred positions and is skilled in bondage." 

The male concubine would drive his Mistress to irritation almost immediately. Nino couldn't help but smile, that would be quite amusing.   
  
Moving to the next slave, a pretty young woman, the seller continued his pitch. "This is Number Forty-one," he said. "As you can see she has very delicate, almost feline features. Absolutely no obedience problems with this slave, she is demure and exceptionally obedient. She’s long trained with the lash and other implements of pain and is the most experienced of my slaves in such love-acts."   
  
Nino considered the girl for a moment, his Mistress did enjoy beautiful things. Mayhap even in her bed… he pretended to give the girl due consideration. 

"This is Number Fifty-one," the slaver continued, approaching the second man. He had a chiseled, almost regal face, but for the sleepy brown eyes. There didn't seem to be any fear or caution in his gaze as he stared directly at Nino; there was even a faint smile on his soft lips. "He is incredibly nimble and limber, and therefore a very acrobatic lover. He trained with the Guild of Treasures and would suit your mistress well if she enjoys such… um, love-toys."   


"And this last one is Number Twen- Twenty? Where are you, girl?" The slaver frowned and looked around in vain, whiskers twitching. "She was just here, sir! I don't know where she could have gone!"   
  
A soft breath ghosted across the nape of Nino's neck and a pale slip of girl stepped around him from behind to hover by his shoulder. She had pale, luminous skin and large dark eyes that studied his face as if he was an unusual but interesting piece of architecture.   
  
"OH! Number Twenty, get back in line this  _ instant _ !"  _ Crack _ ! 

The switch came down across the young woman's shoulders. She flinched, but it seemed to be a purely instinctual action, and not because she was particularly bothered by the pain. The girl cocked her head and watched Nino for a few more seconds, then turned and padded back to the line. She stood beside Number Forty-one, half-hidden behind him, and watched Nino over the man's shoulder.   
  
"I apologize, sir, for Twenty's impertinence," the flesh merchant babbled, his face bright red with fury. “This is simply... It's unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable. I'll take her away and find a replacement girl for your inspection."   
  
"No," Nino found himself saying. "No. Leave her."   


The slave master had Twenty's arm in a vice-like grip, and he turned a shocked gaze in Nino's direction, bushy eyebrows half-way up his brow. "Sir?"    


"A little disobedience adds a touch of spice, don't you think?" He asked, avoiding the girl's eyes. This was troublesome. 

"Well, yes, sir, of course... But sir, you said your mistress requires STRICT obedience. I can't vouch that Twenty will be obedient enough to suit your mistress's desires."   
  
"I would like to sample these four. And the one from earlier. Thirty-six, you called him."   
  
"Oh... Yes, of course. Certainly, sir. Um...even this one, sir?" The merchant gave Twenty a little shake.   
  
"Yes,” his distaste for the flesh merchant was growing by leaps and bounds. Had Nino the chance, he’d take all four and every other ‘concubine’ that man had in his ‘stock’.   


"As you wish, sir." The slaver sounded like he thought Nino was slightly off his rocker, but he wasn't about to pass up a potential sale. "Forty! Step up. Let the young sir sample you."   
  
Nino gazed at the boy, "How old are you?"   
  
"Twenty-four, customer-san!" The man promptly replied, smiling widely. Barely older than Nino himself.   


"Very well. Now, kiss me."   
  
"Hai! Oh." The concubine frowned for a moment. "Would sir like tongue or no tongue? On the lips or on the cheek? Long or short?"   
  
"Kiss me as  _ you _ like."   
  
Forty smiled and bobbed a nod. If he found the request strange, he hid as he shuffled closer to Nino and took the smaller man's face between his hands, then leaned in to kiss him on the mouth.    
  
When the concubine stepped back, Nino was smiling. "Good."   
  
Forty bobbed a polite bow and stepped back into the line, clearly pleased to have impressed Nino.

Nino gestured for Fifty-one to step forward. He had an athletic build and calm eyes. Without a word, Nino beckoned him forward and the man crossed the space between them in two strides and kissed him. Nino judged the kiss too mechanical, lacking in passion.   
  
Next was Forty-one, the delicate, pixie-faced young woman. She kept her eyes lowered and her hands crossed respectfully in front of her. "Shall I kiss you, sir?" she murmured, her voice soft and breathy.   
  
"Yes. As you like, please," he nodded.   
  
She raised her head and gazed into his eyes. They were of a similar height, Forty-one perhaps an inch shorter. She stepped into his personal space and rested a hand on his cheek before leaning in to press her soft lips delicately to his own. Her mouth was warm and soft, sure but reserved. She was testing him, seeing what he liked and what he didn't.   
  
Nino knew immediately that she would not be going with him. His mistress would not enjoy this one. "Thank you.”   


Twenty danced forward before Nino gave any command and gazed at him with bright eyes. "I sense you are trouble, little bird," Nino said.   
  
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Chirp chirp."   
  
"Kiss me," he said firmly.

She nodded and padded forward to nuzzle his cheek for a heartbeat. "I'll kiss you now," she whispered and captured his lips. She was honey and spice, wicked and sweet and more innocent than any concubine ought to be. "Mmmm," he wet his lips when she stepped back.   
  
"Thank you for letting me kiss you, master-san," she cooed, bowing politely.   
  
"Oh, hai... uh..."   


She stepped back into line again and hid behind Forty-one.   
  
"Uh, who's left," Nino asked.    
  
"Number Thirty-six, sir," the merchant announced beckoning forward the disobedient concubine who'd been kneeling in the corner of the courtyard.    
  
"Right."   
  
"Thirty-six! Come here and allow customer-san to sample you!"   
  
The male concubine rose smoothly to his feet and crossed the courtyard to stand in front of Nino. "Sir," he said with a polite bow of the head. He was taller than Nino by a few inches and well-muscled, but for the angle of his shoulders.    
  
"Kiss me," Nino requested, wondering if he would listen or see the request as a challenge.

  
Thirty-six nodded, his expression a blank mask of obedience as he stepped forward. He dipped his head and caught Nino's mouth in a soft, passionate kiss. Nino fell back half a step and the concubine grabbed him around his waist, pulling Nino against his hard chest. "Mmopph!"   
  
The man moved his mouth against Nino's own in a sinful, passionate dance that left Nino’s stomach twisted upside down. A weak moan escaped from the back of his throat and the sound reminded him where he was and he pushed Thirty-six away. "That--that's enough.”

“Him." Nino looked at the merchant, "I'll take him."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The rest of the transaction concluded as quickly as Nino could manage it, doing his best to hide his dislike for the greasy flesh dealer by complaining vocally about the miserable heat and mosquitos and dust instead. 

As soon as his Mistress’s gold changed hands, Nino turned to Thirty-six and told him they were leaving the country and wouldn’t be returning. “Do you have any things to collect? Goodbyes to make?”

“Yes, Master-san.”

“Go then. Meet me in the palanquin when you’re ready.”

Thirty-six hesitated, glancing at Nino with a hint of wariness. 

“Within reason,” he added for a little clarity. The concubine was probably used to being where he was told when he was told.

Thirty-six bowed his head, brown locks falling across his eyes as he straightened and then turned to leave the sweltering ‘reception’ room. Nino sighed loudly and turned his attention back to the flesh merchant and his mountain of pedigree papers Nino was certain were forgeries. “Have you anything cool to drink?”

Thirty-six, though his given name was Sho, moved swiftly through the hall leading from the storefront to the slave quarters in back. He entered the Pen and was immediately pelted with questions by Toma and Maki, twin concern in their eyes. From behind, Yuriko’s narrow arms circled his waist and squeezed. 

“Did he change his mind--?” Toma asked, looking from the door and back to Sho again. 

“No, no,” Sho shook his head slowly, not quite believing he’d been purchased. “Just...allowing me to say goodbye.” He hugged Yuriko’s arms around himself. 

“We’ll miss you,” Maki smiled mournfully. 

“Some of us more than others,” Ueda growled pointedly from the doorway to the men's sleeping chamber, giving Toma--well, all of them, a dirty look that said no one was going to miss Sho more than he was  _ and  _ he was willing to fight about it.

Sho crossed the Pen and gave Ueda a pat on the shoulder, his voice low as he eased past him into the chamber, a small room with little more than piles of futon and blankets and a basket for each of their meager belongings. “You’ll be alright.”

“I know that,” he grumbled, but turned to follow Sho into the room like a protective guard dog.

Sho knelt in front of his basket and quickly began changing into fresh underclothes and then dragged his single tunic over his head. 

“It just-- feels sudden.”

“Mmm,” Sho rolled his shoulders. “It was like that when MatsuKen… It’s like that with everyone here. One day someone will just be gone.” He looked down at the small book in his hand, his most precious belonging. It had been a year-- no, he metally corrected himself,  _ years _ since he’d had an instrument to write with, but yet he carried it with him everywhere. “What matters is cherishing every day we’ve known each other. We carry those days with us wherever we go.”

Ueda smiled, one of those rare ones that only Sho seemed capable of earning, “Wise, as always, Aniki.” 

“You should have this,” he said, holding out the leather-bound book.

“What-- but it’s  _ yours _ !”

“I’m leaving Malanthe. He’s taking me to Ara’ashi’i.” Sho flipped through the book, to the very back where he’d detailed in cramped lines the alphabet he’d created for himself. “I won't have use for this there, but you-- others here-- a slave-script could come in handy one day.” He pressed the book into Ueda’s hands. “I wish I’d thought of it sooner, of teaching you-- the others--” He turned away and sorted through the rest of his belongings. Spare underclothes. A comb. A silken handkerchief from the Better Days. “There’s nothing important in there. It was a diary, of sorts. Translate it if you like, if it’ll help you pick up the script.”

“Sho-san…”

“Maybe one day we'll be able to write to each other.” He forced a smile at his friend, “I’ll always be looking for you. For all of you,” he extended the sentiment to the doorway, where the rest of the pleasure slaves had gathered.

His friends wore a mix of expressions; from dismissive to tearful to happy. How many times had he stood there on that side of the door with them these many months to say goodbye to another? What expression he had worn when the roles had been reversed?

Looking down, he wrapped his belongings in a plain handkerchief and knotted it into a satchel. “I’m not good at saying goodbye.”

“Then don’t say it,” Maki stepped forward, smiling. “You’ll do well in Ara’ashi’i, I think. Clearly, you’re going to a wealthy home if they sent someone as low as another slave to make the purchase. They’ll take good care of you.”

“Thank you, Maki-chan,” He hugged her in gratitude. “You’ll look after the others?” he whispered into her hair.   
  
“Always.”

She stepped back and that seemed a signal to open the floodgates for goodbye hugs. The others rushed forward, inundating him with well wishes and admonitions to behave himself. As if Sho would be anything other than perfectly obedient. 

The other slaves didn’t protest when he said he needed to go. His master, or as good as, until they arrived wherever his Mistress lived, was waiting. Chattel didn’t make people wait.

His new master was waiting inside the palanquin when Sho emerged into the sun, four well-muscled bearers slumped lazily in the nearby shade. A good team would have been on standby, in formation, regardless of the weather. He was starting to deduce that his new mistress was maybe not as wealthy as his master had wanted her to appear before the slave trader. Likely, she couldn’t afford one as well trained as Sho from the Ara’ashi’i training temples and had been forced to send her master concubine slumming in Malanthe for a new slave to purchase. 

Knocking on the wood of the palanquin, he waited for his master to bid him enter before pulling back the curtain and climbing inside. He took the bench across from the other man--hard, without pillows for comfort-- and waited in silence as the bearers raised them up onto their shoulders and began an even trot. 

The other man had his head back, eyes closed and a tightness around his mouth that made Sho reluctant to speak. They might both be slaves, but there was a hierarchy to these things and so he kept his mounting questions to himself.

Through the window, he watched the city pass and was surprised when they turned east, away from the inns and wayhouses in the city-center and toward the marina. “We’re to sail back?” he blurted.

His master didn’t open his eyes, “Mmm. I spent two weeks making the trek through the mountains by caravan. By boat, we’ll be home in two days.”

Since he hadn’t protested, Sho continued with another question. “Why come by caravan at all?”

“I detest traveling by sea,” he groused. “And I’d hoped to find a suitable concubine much sooner in my travels. Who knew I’d end up in the heart of Malanthe before I’d find you?” 

"Master slave-san, may I ask another question?"

“Call me Nino.” Nino opened his eyes, fixing his attention on Sho. “Or sempai, in front of our mistress.”

“Um, Nino, then…”

“Ask.”

“Could you tell me about our mistress? I wish to be prepared when we arrive.”

“Her name is Matsumoto Jun-chan,” Nino’s eyes softened as he spoke her name. 

"Jun....chan?" Sho considered this. "Is it proper to refer to your mistress as -chan in Ara’ashi’i?”   
  
"No. Not even a little bit," he replied, a sudden mischievous smile transforming his feline features.   
  
"Then why do you do it? Won't you be punished?"   
  
"There's no one here to report what I call her, except you," he slid his gaze over Sho. "Are you going to report on me?"   
  
"No. I was just curious. What do you call our mistress when she can hear you?"   
  
"Depends on her mood," he replied. "Mostly she is Mistress. Sometimes, if she is playful, I call her J."   
  
"Is our mistress often playful?" Sho tried to keep the skepticism from his voice.    
  
"Not very, no."   


On one hand, Sho was grateful that Nino was talking to him at all. On the other, he wasn’t actually saying very much. "Why did you select me?"   
  
Nino cast his eyes along Sho's body. Again. "Your toes."   
  
"...You're kidding."   
  
"You have very trim toenails. I like that in a bedmate."   
  
"You did not select me for my toes. Why did you choose me?"   
  
"You have very round cheeks."   
  
Sho puffed them out in response, then let his breath out in a stuttering puff. "No, you didn't. What do round cheeks have to do with anything?"   
  
"Not a single thing. Is that all you have to ask?"   
  
"I have many things to ask. But I still wish to know why you selected me, so I may know what is expected of me. I know you were more taken with Twenty and Forty-one. And Forty would have suited our mistress when she is feeling playful." 

"I was selecting a concubine for my mistress, not for myself." He replied simply, "Do you know them well, the other concubines?"

Sho blinked at the blunt question. “I-- well, yes. Most of us have been there some time. Forty-one and I were in the same household before arriving in the market.”    
  
"You have had a Master before this?" Nino's brow furrowed.

“I’ve never had a Master or Mistress. I speak of my apprenticeship,” Sho explained. “Our final before we were sold.”   
  
"Good. I'd not like to go back and see that man again," Nino's eyes flashed and he reached for the portfolio beside him. “So how many of your papers are forged?” 

Sho tipped his head, “A few, at least. I’d have to read them to know.”

For some reason, that made Nino smile widely. “Nah. Not important. What exactly is the training for concubines like in Malanthe? I’ve heard things about your so-called temples…”

Sho’s mouth grew tight. “Different than in your land, as I understand.”

“Concubines are not treated as a commodity in Ara’ashi’i,” Nino said. “Our position is one of prestige and honor, with more extensive training than your previous owner could think to forge.”

“Why travel so far afield for a Malanthian slave then?” He wondered. 

“She likes the exotic and there are some things that can’t be trained.”   
  
“Such as?”

Nino kicked him in the shin.

“Ow! What’d you do that for!”

“I thought you liked pain?” He grinned while Sho scowled at him.

“Not like that,” he groused, rubbing his shin. “How long have you been with our mistress?” 

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“No, I did not, sempai.” 

Nino stared at him and Sho blinked calmly back until Nino shrugged, “I was given to my mistress at the age of four. We were playmates until I was nine when I was sent to the temple to begin my training. I returned to her harem five years ago. Aiba became her second concubine, just over a year ago, and now you’re to be her third.”

“There’s one other--?” Sho blinked.

Nino chuckled, “She’s so much ‘other’ she might as well be two people.”

“Eh?”

“You’ll see.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
Sho wasn’t able to glean any further information about Aiba or their mistress from Nino after that. They arrived in the busy port in minutes and Nino abandoned him in the palanquin with instructions to ‘Stay’ -- as if he were an animal! -- and was gone an unbearably long time. He returned in a foul mood, grumbling about the fare and warning Sho of all the risks of sea travel. Apparently, the whole ship being swallowed by a tremendous whirlpool was just as likely as being so overcome by the stench of the crew that one would throw themselves into the ocean. 

The only boats he’d ever been on were the ferrying sort that moved up and down the Juloph River. He was not prepared for the behemoth of a ship that the bearers deposited them before. It’s multiple masts and massive rolled sails stretched high into the air where seagulls dipped and soared. Crew swarmed about in orchestrated chaos, doing the work of loading massive crates high into the air using some sort of pulley system to bring them aboard. He tried to follow the intricate lines with his eyes, but Nino tugged on his sleeve, still looking grim.    
  
“Let’s board this monstrosity and get it over with.” He turned away to follow the steward up the plank that led to the first deck of the ship. “Two days,” he was mumbling to himself. “I can make it two days.”

Within an hour of lifting anchor, Sho learned why Nino had been so moody about the trip by sea. He spent the entirety of the day and night of travel hovering over the rail or an unfortunate pot ‘donated’ by the ship’s cook. Sho spent the time rubbing Nino’s back, feeding him small sips of broth and water, and learning that his new sempai was unexpectedly clingy when he wasn’t feeling well. 

Mid-morning after their second night aboard, they arrived in port and, despite his green pallor, Nino towed him down the gangplank as soon as it was secured. 

“You’ll forget you saw any of that,” he pronounced, releasing a deep breath once both feet were on solid ground. “Wait here for the trunk to be unloaded,” Nino pointed toward a pillar where the dock met the street. “I’ll return with a carriage and we’ll go home.”

“Yes, sempai,” Sho bowed and when he looked up, Nino was already walking away. It was a singular experience to suddenly be left alone in a foreign land when all his life he’d never, for a second, been left unguarded.

“Where would I go?” he mumbled to himself, looking about the raucous port, easily four times larger than the one they’d departed in Malanthe. The scents from the fish market mixed with salty breeze off the ocean, exotic spices, and baking bread. To the west, the city rose in tiers of flat-topped mud and brick homes that became cut stone as they followed the natural slope, all the way up to the granite palace that shone white upon the peak. He had understood, in the abstract way of numbers and measurements, that Ara’ashi’i was a much larger, much wealthier country than his own, but it was another to see, hear, and smell the evidence all at once. 

A deckhand appeared and unceremoniously dropped Nino’s trunk at Sho’s feet and walked away without a word. Just when worry was starting to set in and Sho was trying to decide if he should go looking for Nino, a carriage--a real one, led by a team of six matched horses and attended by two footmen stopped in front of him. One of the footmen, in uniform, approached and tried to take the trunk.

“Wait-- no-- I mean, sir, please, I think you’ve mistaken--”

The other footman opened the door to the gilded carriage and Nino stuck his head out. “Oh, shut up and get in.”

Obediently, he climbed in, feeling drab and unwashed inside the lush interior. Nino, who looked exactly as drab and unwashed as Sho felt,  _ looked  _ out of place but didn’t seem to care. The horses began to trot and Sho exhaled. “I was expecting something more like a wagon.”

Nino rubbed his eyes and gave Sho a faint smile. “Our mistress is a ward of the palace. I probably should have mentioned that earlier.”

“Probably.”

“The ride isn’t long.” Sho must have been doing a poor job of hiding his nerves. “Our mistress has a large suite in one of the royal wings. We’ll go directly there. She’ll be busy at court until late afternoon. There’ll be time to get settled, eat, and wash. Don’t look so petrified.”

“I’ve very little information to go by. I don’t want to displease her.”

Once again, Nino’s eyes roamed over Sho’s body. “You won't.”

“Not reassuring, sempai.”

“What do you want to know?” 

He thought carefully. “What prompted her to buy another pleasure slave?” 

“We are called concubines here in Ara’ashi’i. I never asked, but since one of the criteria was a concubine who enjoys pain, I expect she’d like to explore that tenant further. Aiba is unfortunately prone to tears and I…I--” 

Sho waited as Nino struggled to find the right words to use. 

“She doesn’t like to hurt someone who’s not enjoying it.” The statement was obvious to Sho, having spent so long training in the darker side of sexuality. 

“How should I behave upon meeting her?” He asked. “Are there formalities?”

“A buttload when we’re in court or amongst the palace staff. Much fewer in our mistress’s harem.”

“And they are?”

“Obey her in all things. We’re not to fuck each other without her leave,” he hummed. “That’s about it. Everything else is just common sense.”

“Right.” It was worse than pulling teeth. “What is your impression of her? You seem fond.”

“I am. She’s… really, she defies description. Have you ever heard of a prickly pear?”

“A what? No.”

“It’s a rare tropical fruit from someplace far off. They have a hard casing with poisonous spines and the interior flesh contains small individual berries. On their own, they’re sweet and taste similar to the common blackberry, but for someone first pricked by one of the spines, they taste of euphoria. Like touching the surface of the universe.”

“Huh.” 

“Jun-chan is like that; beautiful, kind, generous, as daring and flamboyant as convention and propriety will allow. An unusual, but not very special berry to everyone else, but to Aiba-chan and I, pricked first-- she is everything.”

Sho swallowed, “I find myself eager to meet her.”

“Good,” He smiled, “She’ll be pleased by you, though she might not show it at first.”

She tipped his head, “I’ll do my best to see her happy.”

Nino’s smile widened, “I like that. A nice proper answer. It’s going to drive her mad.”

“What? No--! Why would-- ?”

“Relax. It’s just that you’re--essentially--the polar opposite of Aiba-chan. She follows her whim. Jun-chan won't know what to do with a concubine that actually obeys all the tenants.”

“And you don’t?”

“Depends on my mood.”

“How did you come to gain her trust?” he finally asked the question that had burned in the back of his mind for all the days of their travel. “So much so that she’d send you freely, unguarded, into another country. You could have taken her gold and simply disappeared.”

Nino took his time answering, his gaze turned toward the passing city, but eyes unfocused. “The thought never crossed my mind. Maybe it should have, but if you ask me to imagine a life without my mistress in it, all I picture is bland and boring. What worth is freedom without any color in it?” He met Sho’s eyes and smiled, “I guess once pricked, there’s no going back.”  
  
  
  
  



End file.
